


Only As Good As My Gun

by thiriumdeficiency



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor is feeling a bit jealous, Cybernetics, Detectives, Drug Use, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hank sees everything, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reader is another android/human mix because I love writing that and it's fun a hell, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 22:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15083534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiriumdeficiency/pseuds/thiriumdeficiency
Summary: [ Gender neutral reader. Yes another detective in the DPD but with some twists. A lot of twists. Heavy drug references and abuse, please read with caution if you don't like stuff like that. Title is also subject to change. ]You've been asked to join forces with the Detroit City Police Department for the reawakening of the Red Ice Task Force, and this brings up far more memories than you were hoping.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter moves fast, doesn't have a lot of back story but that's just to set things up.

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT.**

**NOV 26TH, 2038.**

**12:08:47 PM.**

The first thing you see is Gavin Reed, the detective who despised you the last time you worked with the DCPD. For some unknown reason he just didn't like having you around and so he made your life as much of a living hell as he could. Of course he couldn't do anything to physically hinder your investigations, but he could definitely made snide comments anytime he walked past. Now, you swept past him with a smile. "Good afternoon, Detective Reed. I take it you still hate me?"

"You fuckin' bet I do," Reed mutters, rolling his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here now? Why have you come to curse us with your presence?"

"I was asked to by Captain Fowler. Your zippers undone. Have a nice day, Detective," you keep walking, grinning to yourself as you find your way to Lieutenant Anderson's desk and lean on it gently, putting your head right next to his which is resting on a stack of files. "Lieutenant~" you whisper, prodding the back of the man's head with a slight laugh. "You gotta wake up, we have drugs to find and you're stuck working with me for a little while. I heard you got a new partner, I'd like to meet him before we get started."

Hank groans. "Oh fuck off, [Last name]. I was doing paperwork all night, let a man rest."

"I would but we seriously need to get to work. C'mon, I'll grab you some coffee," you grunt as you haul him back, pushing his hair out of his face and moving a bottle of water into his hand before heading towards the break room to see a man with short brown hair wearing a more refined version of an android's uniform. The blue triangle and armband are a dead giveaway, though this android seems to be less of the standard police force and more advanced. You stand in the doorway and watch it. "I'm Detective [Last name]. I heard the DCPD got a new android detective but I didn't really think much of it."

He turns around, eyebrows raised with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Detective [Last name]? You worked with Lieutenant Anderson the last time the Red Ice epidemic became too much. My name is Connor, I was the android sent by Cyberlife but I now seem to be of my own free will, so I stay working here. It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, walking over to you and sticking his hand out. You shake it, surprised at how realistic his skin felt. You shouldn't be surprised, you have your own patches of synthetic skin and it feels exactly the same, but you always underestimate Cyberlife's ability to make androids eerily close to humans.

"Connor, nice to meet you too. I came to get some coffee for Hank but-" You point to the cup in his hand and smile before jerking your thumb over your shoulder. "Shall we go officially wake him up?"

He nods curtly and you both head back to Hank's desk. He's more awake than he was, the bottle of water gone and his eyes squinting a bit out of tiredness. Connor hands him the coffee and takes a seat on the edge of the desk while you take your own seat in the chair next to it, leaning forward.

"So tell me what we have so far, gentlemen," you say softly and look between the two of them.

"I dunno how you're so alive this early in the morning, [First name]. I'd be begging to go back to sleep if I was told I had to get up at the crack of stupid just to get to Detroit for an investigation," Hank says as he takes the coffee and drinks some, thanking Connor under his breath.

"The flight was only an hour but I had to get up to beat the morning traffic in New York," you explain and reach over the desk, grabbing some of the files and flipping through them to see a lot of the same stuff in each. Your fingers twitch a bit as you read "lost job, resorted to drugs" in one of the files, lips pressing together in a tight line as you close it and set it aside. "Fowler tells me he's hoping the task force will come alive again. Are you wishing the same thing?"

"I'm wishing I didn't have to handle deviant cases and Red Ice all at once." Hank scoots his chair forward and types something into his computer, turning the screen to face you. "Right we're tracking an alleged dealer. He's said to wander near North Corktown and is targeting teenagers. Fuckin' kids are getting stuck on this shit now."

You swallow hard and chew your lower lip in thought, stomach churning. "Any leads on where he could be?"

"Some same he's squatting in an abandoned house from a previous deviant case."

"Start there?" you ask.

"Start there," Hank agrees, standing.

Connor stands too, straightening his jacket as he looks over the both of you with a slight look of admiration. "Lieutenant Anderson mentioned you were very passionate about your work. How did you get started as a detective?" he asks, following as the three of you make your way out.

You laugh a little, grinning at Hank. "So he gossips about me? I'm that good at my job, huh Hank?" You turn your attention back to Connor. "It was luck, really. My mom was in the NYPD and I was practically raised around crime and case files, so eventually they offered me a secretary job, then I trained a lot and then I got a job as a cop. When my mom died they realized I had the same potential as her and decided to boost me up to detective. I was on my way to becoming something amazing when..." You go quiet, biting the inside of your cheek and shaking your head. "Shit happens, dreams get put on pause."

"What happened?" Connor questions, his eyebrows raising again.

" _Shit_. I'd rather not talk about it right this minute but if Hank decides to take us out to dinner, I'll be happy to spill my tragic backstory over a drink and a good burger." You jab your elbow into Hank's ribs and then notice Connor holding open the car door for you. You give him a look. "You sit in the front, your his partner. Plus I get more leg room in the back, so ha." You slip into the backseat. "Thank you though."

Hank pulls away from the building and glances back at you. "You get any updates while you were back in the city of fucks."

"A few," you laugh and touch the synthetic skin of your hand gently, "but they didn't wanna push things too far. They're worried if they fuck around too much that I'll get screwed up, so I've got an appointment for a few months from now. They're gonna give me brand new stuff."

"Freak," Hank says, a hint of humour in his voice.

"Douchebag," you reply seamlessly.

"Halfling."

"Washed-up."

"Oh I am not," Hank retaliates with a scoff. "I still got game."

You lean between the two seats with a sly grin on your face. "That why they sent Connor to help you? I bet they think you're gettin' old and you're gonna need replacing soon, so they're gonna give your desk to Robo-Cop."

Connor turns his head to look at you, surprised by the exchange of harsh words and quips. He furrows his brows. "Detective Anderson still does a good job at work, they have no need to replace him with me. I am mathematically perfect but nothing beats the real thing." He shoots Hank a bright smile that looks a bit foreign to his face which you suppose is normally kept neutral.

"They were joking, Connor, but thank you," Hank says and claps a hand onto Connor's shoulder as he pulls up to the curb.

You slide out of the car and fix your shirt, eyeing the house and checking the pistol at your hip. It's habit for you, making sure you still have protection on you at all times even if you're not on the job. Hank notices but doesn't say anything, catching your eye for a minute before jerking his head at the house and walking up to the door. He does the honour of knocking and pulls back a little, the three of you standing in a tense few moments of waiting.

"May I?" you ask, gesturing to the door.

"Be my guest."

You rap on the door with your knuckles. "DCPD, open up! We just wanna have a few words with whoever is in there!" Nothing. "If you don't open the door, we'll break it down!" Still nothing. You look at Connor and point. "Wanna knock this down?"

He nods and gently moves you out of the way, backing up a few steps before kicking his leg out and knocking the door off its hinges, not that would be hard to do considering how shitty the door is but it's still an impressive display and he definitely seems pleased with himself. He takes position behind Hank, the older man holding his gun and heading in slowly. You're about to follow when you hear a faint clicking and some shuffling, so you hurry to the side of the porch and peer around the corner of the house to see a young male struggling to get out the window.

"Fucker," you hiss. "Hank, Connor, go out the back! He's sneaking out a damned window!" you shout, launching yourself over the railing of the porch and running straight for the teen who finally falls to the ground and scrambles onto his feet. You don't slow down, fully prepared to launch as hard as you can into him as he races off. "Fuckin' slow down, we're not gonna - Christ, kid!" You skid around the corner of the house, barely catching yourself as you see Connor, full sprint with a void look on his face, slam into the teenager and knock them both to the ground.

"Shit! Get this thing offa me!" the kid yells, squirming under Connor who keeps him pinned to the ground and looks to you and Hank for instructions.

"Good job, kid," Hank says and smiles a bit at Connor.

You walk over and crouch next to them, locking eyes with the teenager and giving a condescending smile. "Hi there. I'm Detective [Last name], Lieutenant Anderson, and this is Connor. None of us will hesitate to cuff you, hands and feet, if you keep trying to escape. Connor is gonna get off you, I'm gonna cuff your wrists, and you'll ride back to the station with us without saying a word, got it?"

"Screw you," the kid hisses, spitting in your direction but you jerk your head to the side, avoiding it.

"No thanks, I prefer people my own age," you push Connor gently and watch as he gets up before you yank the kid to his feet and cuff his hand behind his back, humming. "Good boys get donuts and water in the interrogating room. Bad boys get jack shit." You direct the teen towards the car and look at Connor. "You wanna get him seated while Hank and I look around the house or do you wanna be in charge of keepin' him while we investigate?"

"I've got him," Connor says and holds the teenager by the back of the shirt, following you and Hank into the house.

The interior is just as bad, if not worse, than the exterior. Tables and chairs are overturned, the stove is pulled away from the wall and the fridge is open with flies buzzing around it. You notice the small baggies of Red Ice lying around, most of them next to pipes but some just spread out on the floor or on makeshift mattress beds.

"Holy shit, it stinks in here," Hank complains, moving a chair with his foot and looking around. "Definitely has drugs."

"No, really?" you tease sarcastically and kneel next to the couch, looking under it and pulling out a suitcase. You cock your eyebrow at the kid and open it, one latch at time, before flipping the top and shaking your head. "Oh come on. A suitcase under the couch has your stash in it? And you think that'll keep it hidden from anyone who wants to find it? Please." You lock it again and pick it up, turning to the android. "You can do that cool real time samples thing, right?"

"I can," Connor confirms.

You gesture to a pop can on the table and give an apologetic smile. "Think you can get any saliva off that?"

He nods and hands the teenager over to you, reaching down and swiping two fingers across the lip of the can before pressing them to his tongue. He stares into the distance for a second before licking his lower lip and looking back at you. "Antoni Morez. 26 years old, used to work in construction but got fired a few years ago. Was here very recently and might still be here."

You smile, not being to deny that being able to do that is definitely one of the coolest and nastiest things you ever seen. You look towards the stairs and chew the inside of your cheek. "You two check upstairs, I'll take this one to the car and wait for you. If it takes you more then ten minutes, I'll come find you."

"As always," Hank says and tugs Connor towards the stairs, both of them disappearing.

You pull the boy out to the car and ease him into it, buckling him in and leaning against the roof. "You know, this will go a lot faster if you just tell me what you know. I don't know who you are but you don't look any older than 16 and if that's the case then we can't do a lot about it if we find drugs in your possession and you don't help us out. Can't cut you a deal if you won't cooperate."

"I'm not saying shit," he mumbles.

"Fine. Not my problem in a few hour. Hope you got a good lawyer."

Hank and Connor return surprisingly quick, Hank shaking his head as he gets back into his car. "Found nothing but more drugs and some old condoms. It was disgusting in there."

"What did you expect?" you ask and keep your body facing the teenager, a hand resting on your hip as the other rests along the top of the seat. You stare him down for the entire ride, barely looking away and barely speaking before managing to get the kid into an interrogation room and lock him to the table. Connor identifies him as Joseph Warrens, 17 and with two warnings for trespassing on private property. Seemingly a good kid.

"So who's doing this?" Reed asks as he watches the kid through the glass. You're not sure why he's here, this isn't his case.

"Not you," you reply quickly and tilt your head towards Hank with a puppy-dog like look in your eyes. "I haven't gotten to crack someone in so long. Please?"

Hank grunts and nods, waving a hand. "Only if you bring Connor in."

"Gladly." You hook your arm through Connor's, much to his surprise and confusion, and lead him into the interrogation with with a bright smile. "Hello Joseph. Jo. Which do you prefer?"

"Go fuck yourself," Joseph growls.

You roll your eyes, pulling a chair out and sitting down with your hands clasped between your knees. "I'm on the job, Joseph, that's not appropriate to do here and if you've been getting away with it at your work, that's sick. We just wanna know who sold you the drugs and where we can find him, that's it. Tell us that and you're free to go. There are no drugs in your system or on your person, we can't hold you for anything for too long. But you'd be doing us a great deal of help if you just told us who the dealer is."

"No."

Connor gently taps your shoulder and hands you a beige folder which you open and flick through, eyes going wide and heard pounding so hard you can almost hear it in your ears. You lean forward and slide the file towards the boy, opening it to the first image of a barely 15 year old girl, dead in a parking lot. "This was Emaline. Honours student, straight A's, would've had a scholarship if she was still alive. Recognize her?" you ask in a low voice, anger bubbling in your stomach and chest. A grease fire waiting for water.

"Never seen her before in my life," Joseph says, eyes flickering to the page.

"That's a lie," Connor pipes up. "Elevated heart rate and temperature."

"S'not a lie."

You move the picture aside to show another teenager who looks a bit older, shaggy black hair and bright green eyes staring blankly into nothing. "Mark Finch. 16. Found with barely a fingertip sized amount of Red Ice and the rest of it in his system. Know him?"

Joseph eyes the picture and swallows hard. "Not a clue."

You clench your fingers into your jeans and spread all the pictures across the table messily, standing now. "All of these _kids_ died because some fucking asshole is selling them Red Ice and probably passing it off as just another trippy drug. These kids are dead, Joseph. Dead. Gone forever. Their family's are arranging funerals and picking what kind of flowers to have at the service right now. So why don't you tell me who the hell is dealing the drugs so we can stop this from happening. So some 14 year old doesn't end up dead in a ditch because he wanted to have a good time," you say harshly, jabbing your finger at the photos. "Antoni Morez. Is he the dealer?"

"Never heard that name before."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" you yell, lowering yourself next to the kids ear. "Antoni Morez. Who is he? Where is he?"

"I don't know, I'm just-"

You unlock the kid's wrists in a flash and pick him up, backing him into the wall with your face only inches from him. "I don't fucking care what you are. Kids are dying. If you want the murder of three, four, five, maybe even more teenagers on your hands, then be my guest and don't snitch. But when more bodies show up in a couple of days because you didn't want to snitch, that's on your head," you say lowly, hearing the door behind you slide open. "Name, location, _anything_."

"[First name], you gotta let him go," Hank says calmly.

"Not until I get something," you snap, punctuating it by jerking the kid higher up the wall.

"Fine! Antoni Morez is the dealer but he only goes to the house late a night. Usually brings a group of teens with him and hikes up the regular prices of the Red Ice because they're desperate for a fix. He gets them addicted and then makes them have withdrawals before giving them more right before they get over it!" Joseph blurts, cheeks red and wet.

You drop him back to his feet and turn quickly, gathering the pictures and pushing the file into Connor's hands. "Remember that," you order, then make your way to the bathroom silently.


	2. Digging Up The Past

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT.**

**NOV 26TH, 2038.**

**06:44:52 PM.**

 

You hunch over the sink in the bathroom, hair hanging in your face and sweat rolling down the back of your neck until your shirt stick to you and it starts to feel like you're glued to it. Rougher than you wanted, you jerk the faucet to cold and stick your hands under it until they're full before leaning closer and splashing the water over your face. It's unbearably hot and you can feel the threat of tears in the back of your throat but you force it down, turning your head so you can take huge gulps of water.

"What the hell was that?" Hank asks as he enters the bathroom, leaning a hand against the counter with his eyebrows raised and eyes big. You realize he's never seen you like that before because the last investigation you worked on with him was somewhat tame and didn't really call for any aggression.

"I just lost my cool, okay? I'm fine," you lie as you let parts of your hair and face drip into the sink. It's a lie because that grease fire only got a few drops of water but someone is standing a little to close with a bucket. It's a lie because you can barely stand to say it without punching something or swearing and because your hands grip the counter so hard you think it might crack under the pressure.

Hank scoffs. "Bullshit you're fine. And even more bullshit that you just lost your cool." He swivels to the other side of you when you turn your head away, keeping your gazes locked. "I know you worked a Red Ice case in New York and I know it went south but all the information was kept under wraps. Right after that you went on leave of absence for an undetermined amount of time for something that was classified as 'personal issues'. If we're gonna work this case together I'm gonna need a little more than you're fine and you lost your cool."

You wipe your face with a hand and straighten your back. "Like I said earlier. Take me and the android out to dinner and I'll tell you both what happened but I don't wanna do this now, not in a bathroom. And I definitely don't want this getting back to Fowler, okay? So if you see that little rat Reed heading to his office, stop him for me."

"You're capable of stopping him yourself," the older man points out, relaxed a bit more than a few moments ago. He seems to have realized that you really just need to not think about whatever is bothering you.

"I might stop him by shooting him," you sing with a bob of your head. "I'm gonna go get some coffee from that shitty place down the street, want anything?"

"No, but take Connor with you. I need to get some paperwork done for a different case and he has a habit of talking through evidence." Lieutenant Anderson leaves, leaving you with a reminder of exactly why you two worked so well together. You both knew when to not push certain topics, you both got along amazingly due to your sense of humour, and he had taken care of you like no one had when you first came down to Detroit. He had shown you the ropes around the station, given you little tips and tricks to getting around the city, and he had even let you crash on his couch when the hotel you were supposed to be staying at decided they had no idea who you were when you called about your room reservation.

You quickly thank whoever is in charge for Hank fucking Anderson and leave the bathroom.

Connor is sitting at his desk across from the lieutenant's, doing exactly as the man said as he recites information about the case out loud. He stops in the middle of a sentence when you knock on the corner of his desk and just jerk your chin at the door, which he understands because he gets up and follows you out. Without the case files.

"Hank wanted me to take you for a walk," you say as the two of your wander onto the sidewalk. "It seems a lot of people think of you as the station pet," you tease gently, watching the LED on the side of his temple flicker yellow for a split second.

"And it seems Detective Reed thinks of you as the devil's physical projection," Connor replies a few moments later, eyes watching straight ahead as you walk.

You can't help the little grin that spreads on your face. "Reed just really doesn't like me. He doesn't like you either, I heard."

"I can back that up, yes. He doesn't like me but that isn't important. It doesn't hinder how I work and I'm starting to get used to his snide remarks and poor timing for being, as Hank would say, an asshole." Connor stops you from walking by putting a hand to your shoulder, gesturing to the car that comes zipping past you and around the corner. Then he drops it, stepping onto the crosswalk.

You watch him for a few moments, head tilted. "Thanks."

A few minutes later you reach the overly expensive coffee shop and enter into the warmth, the smell of coffee and pastries hitting your nose. It draws you to the dessert display, your fingers gently spreading on the glass as you look over the selection and chew your lip in thought. "Maybe we should bring some donuts back for the station, what do you think?" you ask the android who is currently in the process of reading ingredients on the back of a bag of coffee beans.

"I think the asking price for a medium sized black coffee is far to inflated for something that has an ingredient used in ant traps in it, but donuts does sound like a good idea," he replies and sets the bag down, joining you at the counter. The two of you recite types of donuts back and forth, Connor remembering the favourites of almost all the detectives and officers. You order yourself a coffee along with a coffee for Hank even though he said he didn't want one. Once the order is done, Connor insists on carrying it so you let him, also letting him take the lead back to the station.

"Connor?" you question as you walk, stalling behind the android by just a little.

"Yes, Detective [Last name]?"

"I've heard that deviants are more susceptible to emotions, and I don't mean to offend you or anythin' but...you seem to be very similar to androids were before deviancy. I know you strayed from your programming but you are still very machine-like sometimes," you hesitate and swear, "shit, sorry. That was rude, I shouldn't've said anything."

Connor shakes his head, turning to look at you with a bright look in his eyes. "No, you didn't offend me. Yes, I am very similar to how I was before I deviated but I no longer need orders or instructions, and I no longer need to follow orders and instructions. Though I do choose to because I am a detective and I was brought to the DCPD to help Lieutenant Anderson on any cases he should receive. I still take orders from Hank, but I do have my own free will. Just the other day I went for a walk in the park and enjoyed a women playing violin. Before I would have walked right past her without noticing if she wasn't important to my mission." His face twitches and his lips curl into a surprisingly warm smile. "I would like to learn more about acting human though. Would you be willing to help me?"

The smile catches you off guard because you've really only seen him give sort or foreign-to-his-face smiles. This one seems genuine. You nod and nudge your elbow against his. "Sure, Robo-Cop. Keep walkin', we've got donuts to deliver."

Within seconds of announcing the donuts arrival, most of the box is gone. You and Hank snag some for yourselves and you perch yourself on the chair next to Hank's desk, elbowing leaned against it. "So we got Antoni Morez as our dealer and Joseph said he went by the house at night. What if we waited for him?"

"In the house or outside it?" Hank inquires.

"Inside," you suggest, shrugging a bit, "because he might get tipped off about three middle aged people sitting in a car across the road from his drug hole. If we sneak inside and wait then we can be there when he shows up with the kids and whoever else might be helpin' him."

Hank nods and looks to Connor. "Whaddya think, Connor?"

Connor looks up from the files he was pouring over. "I think it's a good idea. I also think we need to enter through the back because if someone notices us entering from the front they might tip him off about that as well."

"Alright then! Stake out, stake out, stake out!" you chant in a yell whisper, shoving the last bit of donut into your mouth before dragging your bag out from under the chair you're sitting in. "I'm gonna go change though 'cause I've been wearin' these clothes since I got off the plane so if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna make use of the shitty showers this place has." You salute the two detectives and head off, whistling to yourself. As you walk you hear muffled voices and come around a corner to see Detective Reed talking to another officer. You arch an eyebrow. "Shady meetings in empty hallways is the name of your mixtape, Reed."

"Shut the fuck up, [Last name]," Reed spits back at you, not even bothering to look at you before going back to his conversation.

You take the opportunity to walk up behind him and peak over his shoulder, planning to make a sarcastic comment about nude pictures when your eyes land on the pictures in his hands. Without pause, you slam him into the wall and grab them. "How the fuck did you get these?"

"I have my ways, [Last name]. No ones gonna wanna work a Red Ice case with a detective who was addicted to the shit," Reed whispers.

"Too bad most of these fucking officers already know or this would be a genius way to ruin my career." You shove the photos in your bag and pin Reed to the wall with your eyes. "Being a dick is one thing, Detective. Being a cunt is a whole different ball park," you whisper and scrunch up your nose at him before shoving past the other officer with a harsh look. You finally make it to the showers and strip, taking the time in private to curse out Gavin Reed for being a fucking douchebag. Then, you get dressed in some more casual clothes and head back to Hank's desk, dropping into the chair with a heavy sigh.

Hank doesn't look up at you, his fingers pressed over something you can't make out.

"Earth to Anderson. Come in Anderson. Are we headed out or what?" you ask with a little laugh, sitting froward when Hank doesn't share it with you. "What? What is it? Did I kill Sumo while I was showerin' or something?"

He pushes the papers towards you, finally meeting your eyes. "I know we said we'd talk at dinner, but dinner isn't happening because of the stake out so what's this?"

You take a deep breath, not even having to look at the papers to know exactly what they are. You dig the matching photos out of your bag and put them on top, rolling your head back as you rub your thighs. "I... I was undercover for a few weeks and I was just supposed to get to the centre of everything. That was it. I was just supposed to find who was dishing it out and then I would be done but I saw... I saw someone I knew and I just couldn't leave without figuring that out first, okay? So I kept going undercover and I lied to my boss and one day I finally got to the centre of it all and it just happened. I needed them to trust me, so I took one measly hit and it fucked me up for days."

Connor sits straighter. "You were addicted to Red Ice."

"Yes, thank you for that deduction, Connor," Hank suddenly snaps and the shakes his head. "Sorry. Sorry, this is just...why didn't you tell me, [First name]? You know-"

"I know you would do anything to help but it was like I wasn't me anymore. I went missing for a few weeks and they sent another detective who found me and they basically told me I was too good to fire but if I didn't clean myself up and get my shit together, I'd be out. I couldn't do the memory of my mother like that, so I took the leave of absence they offered." It feels like shit, having Hank find out like this. You're supposed to trust each other but how was he supposed to trust you now that you kept something so big from him? How were you supposed to be his partner if he couldn't see you without seeing some dumb detective who couldn't even finish their job right?

Hank stands and shifts in place before he rounds his desk and hauls you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into an almost guardian like hug. "You don't ever have to talk about it again, alright? But don't lie to me ever again either. If I ask what's wrong, you tell me."

You falter before hugging back. "Yes sir," you reply jokingly.

The hugging continues for another few moments before he clears his throat and pulls away, nodding. "We have a stake out to get to."

Connor stands, gathering the files spread on his desk into a neat little stack before pulling a hat on to cover the LED. He trades his jacket for a sweater and shrugs his shoulders a bit, looking to you with a faint hint of a smile.

A half hour later, after getting a quick bite to eat and bickering about the best approach, the three of you end up climbing in through a window in the living room, entering into a deadly silent house. Nothing seems to have changed from earlier and nobody seems to be home either, meaning you could get a lay of the land before settling in.

"Want me to check upstairs real quick?" you ask Hank in a hushed voice, still cautious of somebody being hidden.

"Yes but bring-"

"No, Connor can stay here. I don't need backup, Lieutenant, I can handle myself," you say and look to Connor while mouthing 'no offence' and he doesn't seem offended at all. You head to the stairs, following the wall with your fingertips and keeping a tight grip on your gun before you turn onto the stairs. It's so quiet that you can her that white noise in your head as you walk, occasionally breaking it up with a stair creak or a scuffle. You make it to the top and look down the hall, easing open each door you come across and finding nothing until you push open the last door on the right, face dropping when you see what used to be a kid's room.

Any resemblance to innocence the room had is gone. No twinkling fairy lights, a collapsed fort, and the drawings on the walls are poorly painted over and peeling. It hurts your heart to see it like this, knowing a kid used to sleep here and something happened. You make a mental note to ask Hank about the previous owner of the house, moving a book with your foot before leaving. When you get downstairs, you see Hank and Connor hooking up a lamp in the corner.

"Isn't that gonna be obvious?" you question, leaning on the wall.

"Well we need some sort of light so..." Hank plugs the lamp in and jolts back as it flickers on, sharing a confident smile with Connor. "And now...we wait."


	3. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you all are enjoying the story so far! I have an edit account on instagram, @thiriumdeficiency, so please go send it some love because it's very dead right now! Thank you c:

**4203 NORTH CORKTOWN, DETROIT.**

**NOV 26TH, 2038.**

**11:48:34 PM.**

 

Connor, Hank, and you stay quiet for at least an hour, Connor occasionally blurting out what time it is and scaring the crap out of you and Hank as the two of you try to build a house of playing cards. The android watches intently, never speaking other than to tell the time but you notice his eyebrow twitching every now and again as if he wants to put his input in but decides not to. You're about to invite him to help, finally tired of watching him burn away inside, when you pick up the faint clicking of a door and lunge for the lamp, turning it off and holding your breath.

Scuffling feet and soft murmurs come from near the front door, a louder male voice announcing, "Just go to the living room, I'll bring the shit in a minute." There's more shuffling around and then a light turns on above you, a tired looking man noticing you a split second after you pull your gun and aim it right between his collarbones.

"Get on your knees," you instruct in a calm voice. He does and you look to Connor. "Go cuff 'im and make sure they're tight."

Connor makes his way over to Antoni, leaning down and cuffing him before pulling him to his feet and waiting for further instructions. Hank jerks his chin to the couch and moves aside, letting them pass and watching when Connor shoves Antoni to sit.

You look to the group of five teenagers, all of them wide eyed and scared when you turn your attention to them. You lower your gun and lean to one side. "Get the fuck outta here and if I ever seen any one of your faces havin' anything to do with Red Ice ever again, so help me God I'll make sure you get locked up too for your own safety." They don't wait before scattering, all of them pouring out the front door and onto the street. You glare at Antoni and bite your thumbnail. "You do the talking, Hank."

"Got it." Hank searches Antoni quickly and tosses you several half empty pouches of Red Ice. He finds I.D., a knife, pictures of the teenagers that had been gathered, and a rough roadmap of back routes to avoid any heavy foot traffic. Then, he shoves Antoni into the car and mutters to Connor who gets into the back before you can, looking at you through the window as you approach the vehicle.

"You just told him to-"

"Get in the car, [First name]," Hank grumbles, starting the engine.

You ride back to the station in thick silence, Connor briefly breaking the silence to mention your heart rate has increased only to be cut off but Hank giving him a pointed look, earning a soft 'apologies' from the back seat. Connor takes Antoni to the interrogation room and you go to follow him in but Hank puts a hand on your shoulder. "I don't want you in there, kid. You blew up at Joseph for knowing who this guy was and not telling you, now you have the guy sitting in a room and you're thinking about talking to him? No, you're too emotionally invested. Get behind the glass."

"Reed is behind the glass," you complain.

"I don't give a shit." Hank opens the door and goes inside.

You reluctantly listen, entering the viewing room and dragging Reed out of the chair by his collar before taking the seat for yourself, elbows on the ledge and chin propped on your hands. The amount of emotional investment in this case isn't normal for you. Usually you're level headed and can handle any situation, but the fact that this guy was selling drugs to innocent kids who could have futures but instead were dying in the street really makes you pissed. The fire in your stomach bubbles up again and you dig your nails into your skin to calm down.

Hank settles across from Antoni, Connor sitting next to him, and spreads the same pictures you showed Joseph across the table but with a few more additions, only adding to you frustration. "So far seven teenagers have overdosed on Red Ice said to be sold to them by _you_. And I'm sure there are gonna be a handful more joining these ones in a few days once their bodies can't handle the withdrawal. You are responsible for the death over seven kids, that okay with you?"

Antoni doesn't respond, staring back at Hank.

Connor's LED goes red for a moment and he leans forward, slamming his hands on the table. "How can you be so calm about this?! Seven kids are dead, Morez! Seven! They all overdosed on Red Ice that you sold to them and you have no problems with that!?"

"Connor!" Hank yells, pulling the android back into his seat. "Don't make me kick you out of here too."

The RK800 blinks a few times and straightens his tie. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

Hank sighs and squares his shoulders. "We know you're the one selling the Red Ice so there's no deal we can cut for you. You're going to jail no matter what, it's just up to you whether or not you tell us who is giving you the drugs to sell. We can talk to someone about maybe giving you an opportunity for lessening your sentence if you spill but there's no promise, so why would you? You're young, you can afford to spend most of your adult life in jail, right? No kids to carry on your family name, no friends when you get out. _If_ you get out."

"Even if I did know who it was who made the drugs, why would I say anything? I get out and I'd get killed. Safer in prison," Antoni finally says, tilting his head back. The short blond hair and piercing blue eyes unsettle you and you pull away from the glass a bit, wanting distance even with the barrier between you. Something about him seems familiar.

"Because when you got out you'd be set up with a pretty good apartment and some full time security." Hank gathers the photos together and stands. "But be my guest in shutting the hell up. The longer you're behind bars, the better." He heads to the door, Connor swivelling to follow.

Antoni flinches, jerking forward as he mouth opens before he clenches it shut, almost shaking his head no.

You narrow your eyes and press the speaker button. "Who's house was that, Morez? The house you were dealing in, who lived there before you? What happened? Did you deal to them too?"

"Not them," Antoni groans and looks towards the glass. "Him. A father. His had this fuckin' android kid and he always complained about his wife leaving him but he wouldn't stop, and I didn't give a shit because I was making sales. Todd Williams. Real piece of shit guy, took his anger out on the robot kid a lot and even sometimes busted up the android he got to take care of the house."

"You dealt to him?" you ask, reaching for a pen and paper and writing 'Todd Williams' on it. "How often?"

"Once a week? Maybe more if he was really pissed off. That's all you're getting out of me."

You grin a bit. "That's plenty, Morez. Have a good time rotting in jail," you say cheerily into the microphone before leaving the viewing room and meeting up with Hank outside it. "Todd Williams, you did a case about this didn't you?"

"Yeah. The android ran off with the girl and the man reported being assaulted by it," Hank replies and tilts his head. "What're you thinking?"

"I knew a something Williams in New York who talked about her drug addicted ex. She told me he even dealt sometimes so he could afford his own stash. It's like a ring of inner dealings but do we know where he is because he might be just high enough, no pun intended, to get some information out of. And maybe arrest if he's caught with the stuff on him," you blabber quickly, heading to Hank's desk and sitting down. You scan the database with Todd's name and jab your finger at the address. "He's living in a shitty apartment now by himself."

Hank gives you a concerned look. "Why are you so set on this?"

"Because Detroit is where the drug started and I have a bone to pick with the fucker who started it."

Connor holds up a finger. "I have directions to Todd William's apartment."

"Please, Hank?" you ask softly.

The detective grunts frustratedly and nods. "Tomorrow. It's late and I wanna go home and watch some TV before passing out with my dog. Connor, are you coming or staying here tonight?" he asks, gathering his jacket and pulling it on.

Connor looks between you two for a minute. "Where is [First name] staying?"

"I'm probably gonna crash here or something. The hotel looks nice but I'll feel safer here," you explain and wave a hand, pushing it through your hair and keeping it there as you watch Connor process that and falter for a moment. "Connor? You okay?"

He nods. "I'll stay here with Detective [Last name]. To keep them company."

"That's very nice of you Connor. I'll see you two dipshits tomorrow then," Hank says as he yawns and waves, leaving the building.

The rest of the officers slowly leave through the next hour or so, Reed setting down a bottle of melatonin in front of you on his way out, and you almost pick it up and chuck it at the back of his head but decide not to, watching him disappear around the corner. Eventually it's just you and Connor, sitting across from each other at the desks in peaceful quiet with the sounds of people in the holding cells snoring interrupting the air every few minutes. You start to drift off, head lolling back against the chair and a tiny bit of drool dribbling out. And you're just on the edge of falling asleep when-

"Detective [Last name?"

You jolt and wipe your mouth, clearing your throat. "Yeah, Connor? What's up?"

"You explained your run with Red Ice earlier today but I'm still a little confused. You weren't very specific about anything and most of what you said really didn't explain what had happened. I understand if this is a sensitive topic but in order to better connect with you, I feel I should know," Connor says politely, looking at you through the gap between your two desks.

You watch him skeptically for a minute, catching the faint hint of humanity trying its hardest to slip through. "Is there a more comfortable place to sleep in this place?" you ask, ignoring what he had said for the moment.

He almost looks disappointed. "In the break room there are several sofas and pillows along with a quilt that one of the officer's wives made for those you stay late. You would be most comfortable there."

"Come on." You push yourself to your feet, heading in that direction.

"I don't need to sleep, [First name]. I'm an android."

"I know that, dumby, just come sit and I'll tell you about it, okay?" You find the couches and lay down with a loud, satisfied groan, pulling the quilt over you and resting an arm behind your head. You hear Connor sit in the chair at your head and take a peek, smiling at how he seems to stare at nothing and everything all that once. "I had just finished having my birthday and my friend introduced me to this guy who got us into the VIP lounge at this club and I saw a number of drug deals going on. I reported it to my boss, he set me on the case, and I willing went undercover as a frequent buyer of Red Ice to try and work my way into the deeper circles. Every single piece of that shit I gave to my boss so they could analyze it and look for any hints as to where it might be being made but we found nothing, so I dug deeper. I made friends, became the shittiest dealer ever because every time I got my stash to sell I would conveniently lose it but it would end up with the NYPD. I was the biggest story among police. Then I saw that friend, the one who knew that guy, getting absolutely messed up on that stupid fucking drug. I got worried. I tried to stop her, I almost blew my cover trying to explain why I was there, but she wasn't having any of it. She promised me she would introduce me to the guy who controlled it all if I just did it once. If I trusted her with this one little thing, and it wasn't like I couldn't trust her with other things. She never broke a promise," you mumble the last sentence and rub your eye with a heavy sigh. "So I agreed on the terms that we would do that last little bit together and then she would be done, I would bust the guy, and we would get the hell outta dodge until things got cleaned up."

"She doesn't sound like a very good friend," Connor muses aloud, a speck of amusement in his tone.

You can't help but laugh, nodding. "She wasn't that great. Hard party girl, did everything for a high or a buzz or the adrenaline. Anyways... I had one hit of that stuff and I couldn't feel my fingers or my toes. It felt like I was weightless for the longest time, and being a cop puts a lot of weight on your shoulders so it was a good damn feeling. I couldn't stop. I just kept going back, I stopped reporting in to work. One day I was half passed out on some random person's couch when the door got busted in and there was my boss. He offered me my job back if I cleaned up, if I got better, and I did. Quickly. So...that's why I need to figure this out so bad, Connor, I need to know who is fucking people over like that. Because if it happened to me...I can't imagine someone who has it worse."

Connor is silent. The station is silent. Everything is so silent that you can hear the blood pumping in your head so you shift around to make it go away, facing the room on your side and burying the side of your face in the pillow.

"It was a mistake, Detective. You don't need to feel regret over it any more," Connor's voice pushes through the silence, surprisingly smooth.

"I know," you whisper, "but it drives me sometimes. It makes me work harder, be better and more efficient. Like a machine."

"Machines are trying so hard not to be machines anymore, why would you want to be like one?"

"Because it's easier than being a human," you admit with a slight shoulder shrug, draping an arm over your eyes before saying, "I'm not a good cop, Connor. I'm a pretty shitty cop. I get the job done, sure. When it comes down to it though...would I rather be doing something else?"

Connor shifts. "You are good, though."

"Only as good as my gun."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my gun is shitty and needs to be replaced because one of these days it's gonna misfire and end up shooting someone I care about. And I'm same damn way One day I'm gonna get pissed at a case and end up hurting someone because I give up and lose drive. That's gonna kill someone." You furrow your brows and rub your nose bridge gently. "And if I fuck up somewhere on a case, it could lead to one of our co-workers getting hurt. Or you getting hurt. Or Hank."

"I can't get hurt, [First name]. I'm an android, I don't feel pain." He seems to take a second. "I think you're good."

You smile and get comfortable again. "Thank you, Connor, and thank you for the unnecessarily deep midnight conversation... I think you're good too."


End file.
